Overly personal moment of insane vanity, with lots of sweary words. Look away now.

About once a month I have a freak-out. It usually coincides with PMS. My coach is aware of it (because I call him once a month about something and say it's time for my monthly freak-out), but I often have to remind my husband why I'm so irritable for that period of time.

Internally I have a freak-out about my weight every month. As in, why do I have this uncontrollable craving for carbs (which I indulge), followed by feeling like a bloated old goat, followed by...Ohhhh, that's why. And the next week I'm OK. The weight freak-out happens pretty much like clockwork. You'd have to wonder why I haven't figured it out yet, but I still freak out and feel like a bloated goat once a month.

I'm resigned to feeling fat this month, so that freak-out hasn't happened. I did, however, take a look at my butt and decide I was done with the cellulite. And I'm done with the belly flab. These bits have followed me since I had the girls, and no amount of working out will ever get rid of them, I've decided. Though it has gotten better, the offending parts are still with me. Stuck for good. Unless I starve myself. And considering how much I like to work out? That would be a really bad idea.

I actually for a minute considered having the offending fat sucked off.

No that thought hasn't left me yet.

Nobody else notices or cares, or they're all just really nice, I've decided. Every chick I know has some part we're not happy with. I think if I had it done, it might make me happier - and then I could move on to obsessing about something else...

And then I think, it seems stupid to want such perfection, it's not as if I want to get a job as a pole dancer. So I talk myself out of it.

Part of the problem is that I look like shit in white - and I'm a rather dazzling shade of blue-white these days. I think I won't feel quite so freaked out about it all once I can start training in less clothes - then maybe Mr. Sun will help me look a little better.

And wrinklier.

I haven't been able to lift as much as I used to, because I've devoted my life to mostly cardio training. Triathlon doesn't require the amount of muscle mass I used to carry, so I have probably lost some. So I feel a bit deflated about that too.

But this isn't the topic of freak-out-du-jour...

No, this month's freak out is about distance. As in, I went for a 50 mile ride today (at not exactly a rocket pace) and then fell into a coma. How on earth am I going to do that AFTER a 1.25 mi swim AND THEN go do a half marathon?

How?

I know it's possible, I've seen people do it. But me? It's not feeling too possible right now.

Today's ride was with my husband - a known abuser of speed limits. I knew he'd leave me far, far in the dust, and I was OK with that. We had an awesome ride north and I felt like Superman for a whole 25 miles. At the stoplight he said to me, "boy I'm feeling really really fast." Our average speed had been in the low 20's. It was a beautiful day. I said, "yeah, me too - we must have a tail wind, because sadly, that's the only way I am fast."

Yup, it was a tailwind, which turned into headwind when we turned around.

Average speed on the way back was in the 15's. Kind of a slog...

I got home and again - everything hurt, so I ate everything and took a nap.

How am I supposed to put this with a run?

I'm totally freaking out...I feel like a white, flabby, fat, non-muscular old lady triathlete who is going to fail horribly in a half-iron attempt...this isn't some little carb craving freak out, this is a big one.

And now I've embarrassed myself by writing it all down.

Lordy.